


strange colour blue

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Drinking, F/M, Gen, Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series 03, Sokovia Accords, These Idiots, Unresolved Sexual Tension, skoulsonfest2k16redux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7574527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy and Phil after the Sokovia Accords get reviewed.<br/>Things are complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	strange colour blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notcaycepollard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/gifts).



> Written for the #skoulsonfest2k16redux (I managed to finish another one, yay!).  
> I don't know why I wrote this but I was listening to Madrugada and reading one of notcaycepollard's replies to a tumblr question and this is what happened. This took a different turn from what I intended it to be, but I hope you like it.
> 
> [FREE THEME], obviously.  
> For notcaycepollard.

She’s chopped her hair off. It’s the first thing he notices as she is walking up to him, apart from her smile (and it’s that smile that completely throws him off balance, because she’s smiling like nothing happened, like this is just another day in her week).  
Well, it’s not. Not for him, anyways.

„I heard,“ she says.  
„Yeah,“ he manages. „New laws.“  
„Blank page.“  
„Yes.“  
„Coffee?“  
He can only nod; there is a _please_ that he whispers but she probably doesn’t hear it anymore as she’s walking over to the counter.

„I like your hair,“ he tells his cup of coffee when she returns, doesn’t even really dare to raise his head to look at her; her smile stays in the corner of his eyes.  
„I like the stubble,“ she counters, and he feels like he immediately needs to pour sugar into his mocca, or else he’s going to say something stupid.  
„So, what now?“  
„I don’t know,“ he admits, stirring his coffee. „What are your plans?“  
„Coulson, I – “  
He actually looks really scared.  
„Phil.“ He looks up to meet her eyes; they look much softer than he’s remembered (he’s such a fool, no, he is).  
„I can’t come back.“  
He holds her gaze for a moment, then looks down at the small table. It’s not that he looks surprised, but it’s obvious how he feels about her decision.

“But.”  
He takes a sip, waits.  
“I could come and uh, work for you. As – as a consultant or something, I guess. If May approves, that is.”  
That finally makes him smile a little. “I have no doubt she does.”  
She looks into her double latte like she’s going to find a clue as to what to say next in it.  
“You need time, huh?”  
Daisy sort of nods. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t think I can come back to S.H.I.E.L.D.”  
“You mean you – ”  
“I don’t know, Coulson. I know you want to say it was not my fault, that I need to trust myself again, that you, all of you, would take me back in a heartbeat. But I’m not sure that’s who I am, at least not right now.”

He nods. “You’re Quake.”  
“Yeah – I guess. Quake, who now cooperates with the authorities.”  
“Like Batman.”  
“Batman can go suck it.”  
He chuckles, and she knows he’s never going to blame her for anything.

***

“Cooperating with the authorities” means she needs to report a lot of what she’s doing to S.H.I.E.L.D. (more specifically, to Coulson), and it’s not as inconvenient as she would have thought it to be, even though it clearly changes a lot about how she operates.

It also means that she gets to visit the base sometimes and to see the others again. So far, nobody has said anything that would imply they are cross with her for leaving. (Also, who cares if they are or were or whatever when the first thing that happens when you enter the base is a huge hug from Mack.)

These occasional visits always turn into comfortable, calm evenings in the common area; sometimes, there are marshmallows or a movie or just some takeout food. She won’t deny it; she misses them. She misses having _this_.

To be honest, even though she loves all of them, obviously – the evenings Daisy has loved the most so far were all with Coulson, either after everybody else left or when nobody else felt ready to stay awake any longer. 

She’s not sure why that is. It’s probably just because she misses talking to him so much. Obviously, most of what they talk about concerns missions, but every now and then, he sort of opens up a little, tells her a little story, or she gets to fangirl over Nouvelle Vague movies or he gets to ramble about Star Wars or something.

It might not be much, but it’s all she needs.

Sometimes, Coulson opens a bottle of something, and she stays the night on the couch, disappears at dawn. These are the nights that hurt the most, that make her feel both very empty and both very full of wanting something without really knowing what it is.

He seems to understand, because he never asks her any questions she doesn’t feel comfortable answering. Most of the time when this happens, they just stay awake telling each other unimportant little stories or just not talking at all, just sharing a glass of something on the carpet floor until one of them or both fall asleep.

***

Once, he gets to give her a lift to Cleveland; it’s not for a mission, but May lets him drive her there (of course she does). Unfortunately, it’s not in Lola – she’s fine but needed to be refurbished after a small incident (it’s mostly a paint job, thank God). They joke about how the SUV just doesn’t match Coulson’s personality.

It’s a long trip, and she offers to drive, but he doesn’t let her. Once, he accidentally brushes her knee as he’s changing gears. Nothing happens, of course, neither of them comments on it.

They take a break at a gas station; everything around them looks pretty lonely – there are some small lights at the horizon, and you can see the stars, but the gas station is the only colour in the whole area, neon green and a dark blue. In this light, her face looks like it should be on a movie screen.

***

A few months later, while setting up an elaborate ruse for the current villain of the month, something goes incredibly wrong and one of Daisy’s informants gets shot in the head. She just sits there on the sidewalk while Mack and May collect the criminal.

When Coulson gets to her, she stands up like nothing happened.  
“Daisy, are you okay?”  
“Sure.”  
She dusts her thighs. “Drink?”  
Coulson turns around to check whether the team can manage without him. May meets his eyes, nods.

They couldn’t have chosen a more dilapidated bar, but they serve Whiskey, so it’s probably fine. She picks a small couch in the corner.

After hours, she rests her head in his lap, and he doesn’t even think before starting to stroke her short hair. It feels a little like everything is just the way it should be, even though it’s clearly not. It’s this small intact moment in the middle of their job that attracts chaos like that’s all it’s capable of doing.

She’s so drunk, but when the barkeeper finally asks them to leave, she pulls Coulson up and out of the bar, pushes him towards the wall as gently as she can, then can’t bring herself to kiss him. 

He looks at her, eyes wide, like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world, like he’s two inches away from some sort of salvation, and then only manages to briefly touch her shoulder before walking down the street, leaving her to look after him.

***

Maria invites her to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Christmas party, and she RSVPs _no_ at first, then accepts the invitation last minute. When she finally gathers the courage to go there and shows up after midnight (in a pretty risqué dress, if she may say so herself), everybody is pretty drunk already, but it looks like a very nice party.

Most people are dancing to some swing records (from Coulson’s collection, she suspects), there are some party games going on, and there’s a lot of delicious-looking food. And there are so many guests, Daisy doesn’t even know a quarter of them, probably. A tipsy Maria comes to hug her (squeeze her, that is) and talk her into having a polystyrene cup of cinnamon punch with her.

It takes her almost an hour to find Coulson; she keeps running into people she knows and who compliment her on her recent mission-related achievements, her messy pixie cut and her indeed very low-cut, flowing red party dress (not necessarily in that order), spends some time with Elena and Mack, and with May and Joey whom she finds playing Twister. 

Just when she finally spots Coulson, she runs into a completely wasted Jemma (almost knocks her over, as a matter of fact). It’s not that she doesn’t love Jemma – she does, but this is just such bad timing. She would never be unfriendly to Simmons, though, so she takes her time to chat with her and to hug her (it turns out Jemma can’t get hugged often enough by her friends when she’s drunk).

It’s not really easy to keep an eye on Coulson (he’s on the dance floor) while talking to Jemma, but in the end, Daisy manages to maintain a general idea of his direction until her friend runs to freshen up.

She doesn’t mean to sneak up on him from behind, but he happens to turn his back when she reaches him. When he swirls around, he looks like she’s almost given him a heart attack. Then, a tipsy smile, so innocent and genuinely happy that it almost breaks her heart. 

“Maria told me you couldn’t come.”  
“I changed my plans.”  
“I didn’t know.” He looks so incredibly happy.  
He looks like he wants to say something completely different, but then asks her, “Have you had any of the mulled wine?”  
She shakes her head.  
“Would you like to have some with me?”  
“Love to.”

They walk across the crowd, Coulson grabbing her hand at one point so as to not let her be washed away. He hands her a glittery cup, and they raise their drinks. 

It takes him a little while to feel confident enough, it seems, but they end up talking and talking, sitting in that half-lit corner, drinking mulled wine. Some of the guests have already left; the crowd has started dispersing a little. 

If she thinks about it, this is the first time, really, that she’s talking to Coulson about non-job related things exclusively. It’s not that they haven’t shared any personal stories with each other, on the contrary; but this is the first time that neither of them even so much as brings up anything that has to do with a mission. 

She guesses that it has to do with her not being a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent anymore, even though that’s probably a childish interpretation. Anyways, they are still talking when a small group of people has started tidying up the place a little. As a matter of fact, you can already hear the morning traffic. 

When it becomes clear that the party’s over, he offers her a hand to pull her up. The wine has had quite some effect on her though – more than she would have thought –, and she almost lands in his arms, barely manages to regain balance. His hand on her arm earns him a smile, and for a moment, she’s convinced he’s going to kiss her.

It feels oddly disappointing when he doesn’t. The cleaning squad passes behind him, and the moment is gone. He helps her into her coat, walks down the stairs with her, even hails her a cab. She can’t help turning around to catch a glimpse of him through the back window as he turns around to find another cab for himself. 

***

She swears she didn’t plan on doing this at all, but she just happens to be in Wisconsin that day, decides to hitchhike from Fond du Lac to Manitowoc on a whim. It’s May 4th, and somehow it just feels right to visit Coulson’s grave, even though she knows he was never actually in there. 

As she strolls up the little hill that makes the cemetery rise above the city, she notices someone standing just in the row where she expects to find Coulson’s grave. She doesn’t need to approach much further to realize it’s actually Coulson.

“Phil.”  
Her voice is so soft that it’s hard to believe that she’s actually standing there, only a few feet away from him.  
“Daisy.” The smile on his face is priceless. “What are you doing here?”  
“I was in Fond du Lac and thought ... well, today is Star Wars day.”  
It makes him laugh, and she almost feels guilty for making him laugh in front of his gravestone.

“You remembered.”  
“Yeah.”  
She steps closer, and they look at the grave for a moment. It only says _Coulson_ in modest, elegantly chiselled letters.  
“Is it empty?”  
“No. It’s actually my parents’ grave.”  
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. May 4th was actually my mother’s birthday, that’s why – I mean I’m supposed to vacate her house. I never wanted to sell it, but considering my line of work, I don’t think I’ll ever have much use for it.”  
“Oh. I mean – happy birthday, Phil’s mum – “ – Daisy actually does a little curtsy in front of the grave, and Coulson really, really wants to hug her for it – “what makes you so sure?”  
“Well, you know. I’ve had my fair share of, uh – relationships, I guess, but – I think this is just what it’s going to be like in ten years. Same as now.”

“Was your mother very strict?”  
“Not particularly, no – why?”  
She steps closer, and he fully expects her to stop approaching any moment now, but she doesn’t, not until she’s practically hugging him.  
“Do you think she would disapprove of this?”  
He chuckles. “What – you hugging me in the cemetery?”  
“Phil, nooo – ... Kissing you.”  
She swears she just saw him blush the tiniest bit; he’s looking at his shoes. It’s a little heartbreaking.  
“I hope not.”  
“Excuse me for a moment, Phil’s mum,” she half-whispers, and as she touches his cheek, leaning closer, he still thinks something is going to happen, something is going to make her stop, until she doesn’t. Until she’s actually kissing him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! :)  
> The title is actually a Madrugada song title (if Sivert doesn't make you pine after someone, I don't know what will).


End file.
